Chapter Thirty-three
It has been so long since I have been adequately drained. My heart leaps with her command to kneel as I have so often done when her fingers work to relieve me of my milk.
When Ms. Powers disappears into her kitchen and returns with the milking bowl, I know the dull ache will at last subside. I lean forward in eager anticipation, allowing my enormous glands to hang. They appear to be large water filled balloons with my pink nipples resembling the extended filling neck. It feels as if they will explode and on some lonely evenings I have fantasized about having them pricked by a pin and watching milk gush like oil from a well.
“That farm girl had interesting technique,” Ms. Powers observes. “And I never realized how aroused you become in merely showing yourself.”
Ms. Powers encircles my left nipple in her right hand, thumb and forefinger near the body of my mammary gland. She closes her grip. It feels wonderful, warm and firm.
“But my hands are larger than hers.”
It is true. However long my nipples have become, the tip reaches only to the forefinger of Ms. Powers’ closed fist. Therefore any attempt to emulate Nurse Inga’s method would result in the milk spurting within Ms. Powers’ hand and not into the waiting bowl below.
“We’ll have to change that.”
Ms. Powers begins to milk me utilizing her thumb and index finger. But her tone of voice hints at her eagerness to utilize my nipples like cow’s udders, just as Nurse Inga did on the video.
“Tomorrow Arthur will drive you to the doctor’s office. As I said, I want certain alterations made. I found that nose ring to be most becoming. It portrays your stature here at the Estate very nicely. And I’m going to have the doctor do a little stitch and tuck on your vocal cords. Nothing permanent, but since you don’t need to talk here we can be more accommodating.”
She pauses. The sound of a particularly large stream of milk bursting into the bottom of the bowl interrupts her. After all, it has been awhile...
“And it appears that you enjoy your balls. The doctor is going to arrange a more permanent configuration. You may have some difficulty walking about, but you really won’t need to go anywhere.”
More squeezes. More spurts. I have never given up so much so fast.
“When you return in the afternoon the woman will be here for your electrolysis. It’s all going to go, Alexi. Permanently. If you leave us, you can always return to that peep show. You’ll be quite the attraction.”
The phone rings. Ms. Powers steps away to answer. The exasperation of pausing is indescribable and a small stream continues to drip to the bowl as Ms. Powers talks.
She returns.
“That was easier than I thought. It seems the director of your video left his office address imprinted on the final frames of your milking extravaganza. My agents contacted him and he very nicely gave us the phone number of the make-up artist. I was very impressed with her work”
Thankfully the conversation ends. Ms. Powers concentrates on draining me. My hips begin to work. My little bell sounds and my balls work to provide much needed vaginal stimulation. I do not climax, of course. But Ms. Powers keeps me on the edge for an hour. I nearly fill the bowl twice. My vaginal juices flow down my thighs to the table.
With the last of her manipulations, little milk flows. The immense change in hormone levels causes a glow, which I can only describe as a stupor. My nipples are worn to a frightening abraded pinkness, but I barely feel the irritation. When Ms. Powers guides me from the table I realize my knees are wet. I have been kneeling in a puddle caused by my own arousal.
I am privileged to spend the night with tongue endeavoring to service Ms. Powers’ backside. She is very meticulous in tightening the straps on her waist harness and though my nose and lips are forced deeply into her rear crevice, my air supply is sufficient. I lick with much gratitude.
The next morning Angela leads me on leash back to my room. There I am released from my waist belt and collar, bathed and once again powdered about my labia.
An interesting garment is supplied. It is a simple sheet with a hole in the middle for my head. Angela drapes it over me. With my head poking through the hole, the sheet rests on my shoulders but barely reaches my waist, just covering the top of my buttocks and mons. My breasts cause a huge pair of silhouettes under my chin. I cannot see my toes.
But it is nice to have not only some covering but also have my hands free. For the first time in many days I can walk without concern of losing my balance.
Angela supervises my walk to the mansion’s garage. There Arthur awaits with an unctuous smile holding open the rear door of the long black limousine. But as I get closer, his expression changes to a glower in viewing my partially exposed pudendum. With my tiny clitoral bell performing its function of titillating me it also calls attention to my privates.
I enter and sit, eagerly preparing to view the scenery of the mountainous countryside. On previous trips to the doctor’s office, Ms. Powers was with me and I was occupied licking her boots for most of the ride, thus viewing very little.
The engine starts. The garage door opens. We exit. It is amazing to realize that with the car moving at moderate speed it requires five minutes or more to exit the Estate. The Fatipton land holding is vast and I fully realize its enormity when the stone pillars and tall iron gates finally flash by the window.
We enter the main road. The car accelerates. I sit back and relax as best I can. Ms. Powers has insouciantly described the procedures to be performed, and although I recall the pain of the Dr. Helga’s nose ring with trepidation, I convince myself all will be simply and easily done.
Then the car slows and turns. There are no buildings. The road narrows and a wooden sign reads ‘Hiking Trail’ with an appropriate arrow. We stop. The door opens. Arthur enters the rear passenger area. His unctuous smile has changed to one of evil. His hand moves to his zipper.
“I don’t think you’ll tell anyone, Miss. And I understand you’re rather experienced.”
Did I have a choice? I instinctively moved to the floor and knelt. Julio had obviously spread the word.